


Finally Fair (in Love and War)

by irisbleufic



Series: Delicate, Dangerous, Obsessed [36]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexuality Spectrum, Bickering, Childhood Trauma, Christmas, Christmas Party, Comedy of Errors, Demisexual Character, Demisexuality, Developing Relationship, Disability, Do not translate without permission or copy to another site/app, Drinking & Talking, Epilogue, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hanukkah, Heroes to Villains, Holidays, Humor, Intersex Character, Jerome Valeska Lives, M/M, Neurodiversity, Nonbinary Character, Other, Reconciliation, References to Consensual Kink, Rivalry, Romance, Sibling Rivalry, Siblings, Trans Character, Twins, Villains, Villains to Heroes, Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:34:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21661510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: “Where were you the night we turned nine?” Jerome demanded, viciously bitter. “When he decided beatingjuston Mom wasn’t enough?”Jeremiah swallowed, finally nervous, glance flicking down to the shard’s point. “Hiding.”“Bingo,” Jerome said, grinning so wide it hurt. “You were always great at that, weren’t you?”“That’s the night I decided I had to leave,” Jeremiah replied, unable to remain dispassionate.“Yeah,” Jerome agreed. “A year later, you did. Would it have been so hard to take me along?”
Relationships: 514A & Bruce Wayne, 514A & Jerome Valeska, 514A & Kathryn Monroe, 514A/Jerome Valeska, Jeremiah Valeska & Bruce Wayne, Jeremiah Valeska & Jerome Valeska, Jeremiah Valeska & Jerome Valeska & Bruce Wayne, Jeremiah Valeska & Lila Valeska, Jeremiah Valeska/Bruce Wayne, Jerome Valeska & Lila Valeska, Those Previous Three Are Just Referenced (Since Kathryn and Lila Are Dead)
Series: Delicate, Dangerous, Obsessed [36]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/726708
Kudos: 62





	Finally Fair (in Love and War)

Jerome was thoroughly enjoying himself. It wasn’t every day you got Penguin so rattled that he’d retreat until he was shoulder-to-shoulder with somebody _else_ he hated. Then again, he and Jeremiah had been drinking together for two hours.

“Oh, you scamp,” Oswald said, his veneer of joviality starting to slip. “Always such a joker!”

“Strangely,” said Jeremiah, side-stepping when Oswald bumped into him, “I doubt he’s lying.”

Oswald’s alcohol-muddled expression turned something akin to furious. “Olga would never.”

“For once,” Jerome said, reaching across the center island to snatch Jeremiah’s whiskey tumbler out of his lax grasp, “I doubt _he’s_ lying, either. Olga, though—she really did agree we should let bygones be bygones. What’s aiming a shotgun among friends?” He took a sip and spat it back out, the burn nauseating. “More money than God, and it hasn’t improved your taste?”

“It’s not as if a few months living in luxury has improved _yours_ ,” Jeremiah shot back.

The intrusion of footfalls from behind Jerome was disconcertingly welcome. While Martín dashed to Oswald and latched onto his father’s arm, Five set a light, but protective hand on Jerome’s elbow. He was devastatingly pretty, face pink with residual chill.

“Hiya, princess,” Jerome said, finding it took all his resolve not to break eye contact with Jeremiah while Five kissed his cheek. “Still havin’ fun, or is it time to, uh—” Jerome drew one index finger across his throat, eyes narrowed “—cut and run?”

“I’m fine,” Five said. His unspoken query was, _Yes—but are_ you _okay?_ “Improved his what?”

“Fashion sense,” Jeremiah muttered, grabbing the glass from Jerome. He knocked it back.

Oswald was already making a judicious retreat with a sternly signing Martín keeping pace.

“Hey,” Jerome said, kissing Five’s cheek in turn. “Gimme a minute,” he whispered. “Why don’t you go up with ’em?”

Five nodded reluctantly, releasing Jerome’s arm as he stepped back. “I need to find Bruce.”

Tapping his empty glass, Jeremiah glared malevolently until Five vanished. “Thirty seconds.”

“Those ears of yours sure make up for the shit eyesight,” Jerome chuckled with false levity.

“I have nothing to say to you,” Jeremiah replied thinly, “except what courtesy Bruce requires.”

Striking swiftly, Jerome knocked the tumbler from Jeremiah’s hands. It shattered on the work-top.

“Maybe not, but I sure do,” he threatened, grabbing the largest shard. “Got your attention?”

Jeremiah didn’t respond. He didn’t even blink when Jerome pressed the fragment to his throat.

“Did you know,” Jerome said, letting the edge bite Jeremiah’s flesh, “Mom wasn’t my first kill?”

“C’mon, do you really think my memory’s that bad?” Jeremiah taunted, turning on that glib, deadly-innocent charm that Jerome hadn’t seen since they were kids. “Of course she wasn’t. There were all those strays you did in. Cats, dogs, you name it.”

Jerome dug in harder with the shard. “Ah ah _ah_. Strays we did in. You held ’em down.”

Jeremiah rolled his eyes, impressively bored. “Fine. Then I take it you don’t mean the animals.”

“The sauce hasn’t rotted your brain the way it rotted Mom’s, I’ll give you that,” Jerome said. He withdrew his improvised weapon, but didn’t set it down. “Remember that old flame of hers in Kansas City? The snake guy who gave her Sheba in return for, how did she like to put it, a few solid nights of unbridled passion when we were barely out of diapers?”

“Are you asking me because you _don’t_?” Jeremiah retorted, with enough wit to wound.

Jerome raised this hand again, poising the shard as Five had poised his knife a second before plunging it into Uncle Zach’s throat. He wanted to do it. God, did he ever. Jeremiah’s blood would look perfect on Bruce’s floor.

“Where were you the night we turned nine?” Jerome demanded, viciously bitter. “When he decided beating _just_ on Mom wasn’t enough?”

Jeremiah swallowed, finally nervous, glance flicking down to the shard’s point. “Hiding.”

“Bingo,” Jerome said, grinning so wide it hurt. “You were always great at that, weren’t you?”

“That’s the night I decided I had to leave,” Jeremiah replied, unable to remain dispassionate.

“Yeah,” Jerome agreed. “A year later, you did. Would it have been so hard to take me along?”

Once again, Jeremiah refused to speak, but the glint in his eyes held traces of misery and guilt.

“Shucks, of course it would’ve,” Jerome said with mock pity, dropping the shard. “You needed an out.”

“Jerome,” Jeremiah hissed through clenched teeth, stubbornly resisting his tears, “ _don’t_.”

“How lucky,” Jerome said, turning to go, “that I loved you enough at the time to let you leave.”

“You changed your tune eventually!” Jeremiah snapped. “No attachments. What’s different?”

“Turns out keeping my baby happy keeps _me_ happy,” Jerome replied. “Who knew, right?”

“I’ll drink to that,” Jeremiah muttered. He snatched the whiskey bottle, downing the dregs.

Jerome stopped in his tracks, too intrigued to leave. “Brucie’s violent streak does it for ya?”

Jeremiah didn’t look pleased with the prying, but he didn’t really look disappointed, either.

“Why ask,” he ventured, “when you know damn well you fell for a variation on the same theme?”

“An assassin’s all the Court wanted Five to be,” Jerome said, “but d’you think that’s my only reason?”

Jeremiah dropped the bottle in the sink. “Bruce didn’t care what I was, or what you did to me—”

“No, that’s wrong,” Jerome replied. “Bruce didn’t care what you were, or what you did to _me_.”

Resignedly, Jeremiah shrugged. “Oswald’s been trying to sell me on his appraisal of the situation.”

“See, now that’s entertainment,” Jerome said, striding back to the island. “What’s he say?”

“That you and I both got what we wanted,” said Jeremiah, sulkily. “That we’re finally even.”

Jerome rolled his eyes. “Don’t put on that act with me. You get to be queen bee around here.”

“For all that you call Five _princess_ ,” Jeremiah countered, “is your situation any different?”

Jerome cackled. “There’s a thought! Takes one guy on a short leash to know another, huh?”

* * *

Five took to wandering Wayne Manor’s halls when he didn’t find Bruce in the same room as the rest of his guests. He wondered if leaving Jerome in the kitchen with his twin had been wise. If the conversation went poorly, one of them could end up dead.

If Jeremiah killed Jerome, then Five would kill Bruce. A heart for a heart seemed fair.

The library door was ajar, which meant people had grown bored with using it for trysts. Five wandered in quietly, unsurprised to see Bruce at his desk with a mess of open folders and notebooks—inspecting them one at a time, from the look of things.

“Is this the only thing you do with your time?” Five asked, disappointed he hadn’t startled Bruce.

“Of course not,” Bruce said tautly, closing the notebook in front of him. “I still spar with Alfred now and then. I guess those are the only things you’ve seen me do. When Jeremiah and I aren’t bending over backwards to keep you and Jerome alive, anyway.”

Five approached the desk and set his fingertips on the edge of it. “I probably deserved that.”

Bruce closed the remainder of the files in quick succession, stacking them up haphazardly.

“I needed to make sure you and Jerome hadn’t meddled with these. I hope you understand.”

Nodding slowly, Five watched Bruce rise and take the stack over to the shelves. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Bruce asked, clearly puzzled as he put the first few away. “ _Not_ trusting you?”

“No,” Five said tetchily, fussing with the picture frames on the desk. “For saving my life.”

“The way I see it, I didn’t just owe Jerome,” Bruce said, setting the remaining files on the edge of the desk before coming around to take the frames out of Five’s hands. “I owed you, too, but couldn’t readily admit it.”

“I sound like a broken record, but for _what_?” Five demanded. “I broke into your house.”

Chewing his lip, Bruce stared down at the pictures in his grasp before setting them on the desk.

“I was there when your mo—when Kathryn died. I tried to convince Oswald to spare her, but not hard enough. I was young and scared. I was relieved someone had come to rescue Ed and me. Alfred and Lucius had come with them. Nothing seemed clear-cut anymore. I’m sorry.”

Five tilted his head, taking his turn to express puzzlement. “Penguin would’ve done it anyway.”

Bruce nodded in pensive agreement. “You’re not wrong, but I still failed you. You need more answers, ones that Indian Hill and Wayne Enterprises files can’t give you. Under the right pressure, she might’ve shed light on what we don’t know.”

Narrowing his eyes, Five searched Bruce’s inscrutable gaze. “You mean torture, don’t you?”

Sucking in his breath, Bruce made as if to nod. He never carried through with the movement.

“What are you so worried about?” Five asked. “Remember who you’re talking to. I would’ve asked to watch. Jerome would’ve enjoyed it, too.”

“Yes,” Bruce sighed, moody in spite of the reassurance. “I know about the memory stick. That you asked to see how Strange died when we raided…”

“Do you think I blame you for rescuing the man you love?” Five pressed. “I don’t. Just because I hate Jeremiah doesn’t mean I don’t understand. I did the same thing for Jerome—at Jeri’s, during that ambush while he was hiding there.”

“Back in April,” Bruce said, relaxing his posture. “Right before the two of you skipped town?”

Five nodded absently, checking his wrist for an elastic before hastily braiding back his hair.

“I think…we wouldn’t have done that if we’d known there was a chance you’d be sympathetic.”

“At the outset, I can’t promise you I would’ve been. Jeremiah _definitely_ wouldn’t have been.”

“Oh,” Five said abruptly, finishing his hair in haste. “Just so you know, they’re in the kitchen.”

“Who, Jeremiah and Oswald?” Bruce asked. “Yes. They’ve been there pretty much all night.”

“Jeremiah and Jerome,” Five clarified, flipping his braid over his shoulder. “Talking. I hope.”

Bruce rushed from the room so fast that Five wondered, guiltily, if he ought to have followed.

There was no question Bruce’s destination was the kitchen. Damage control was best undertaken pre-emptively, but Five had been vindictive enough to want Jeremiah to keep suffering. He knew that Jerome would see to it.

The sounds of carousing from down the hall had significantly diminished, which meant that Alfred was in the process of ushering people out.

Five sat down on the leather sofa that faced the door, pondering. Even though he didn’t trust Jeremiah, he _had_ come to trust Bruce.

The remaining sounds of guests departing faded to silence. Five had only been sitting alone for about ten minutes, but it felt like longer.

When someone finally strode purposefully through the library door, it wasn’t Bruce. Jerome came in alone and sat down beside Five.

“What did he say to you?” Five asked, leaning into the curve of Jerome’s arm. “Do I need to—”

“Nothing to fret about, precious,” Jerome said, stroking Five’s cheek. “Besides, I started it.”

Five closed his eyes, turning his head until his lips brushed Jerome’s palm. “What about Bruce?”

“He hauled my bro out of there before he decided to get belligerent again,” Jerome replied.

Questioningly, Five widened his eyes. “Wait. Jeremiah _wasn’t_ rude to you the whole time?”

“Nah,” Jerome said, and then pulled Five into his lap for a kiss. “I had decent leverage.”

“It’s late,” Five murmured against Jerome’s lips. “Is Bruce going to arrange a ride for us?”

“Unfortunately, the driver didn’t like my shotgun. He’s refusing to make the return trip.”

“So, are we supposed to…” Five made a face, displeased. “We’re staying _here_ tonight?”

“Guess so,” Jerome said, rubbing Five’s back. “Brucie said to wait here till he figures something out.”

Five sighed, resting his head on Jerome’s shoulder. “Well, at least the guest rooms are nice.”


End file.
